This is a story to remind us all to enjoy what we do, and to do what we enjoy:
It started absently enough. Someone asked: “What’s the difference between three nines and four nines?” The first hit on Google was https://uptime.is/
It’s a slick little calculator, showing what each level of 9s in uptime translates to, in minutes/hours/etc. So I got my answer, and normally that might be the end of it – but something on the page caught my eye:
Secret alien technology, heh. –Wait, what’s that in the alien’s trunk? A flag? And it says … lisp?!
Lisp is a programming language taught in prehistoric Intro CS courses, with – as far as I could ever tell – the sole purpose of hazing students. I figured it was there to winnow out the students who thought “Hey, this could be a lucrative career” from those who really had a passion for programming. Since leaving that course (back when dinosaurs ruled the earth), I never heard of that language again. What’s the story?
The story is at the top of the tool’s own page. It describes how an Norwegian IT lawyer decided to write this simple but useful tool, and basically decided to write it in Lisp, just to be perverse.
I love it.
It reminds me that – yes, this is our job, and often we have to race to find the best solutions for things, but that far too often we’re constrained by fear, or by worry, or by concern. We design things as best we can because there’s a certain artistry in good design, but mostly because we don’t want the phone to ring at 3 am.
But it’s supposed to be fun. It’s too easy to forget that. Mr. Miazine, apparently decided, just for the sheer giddy foolishness of it, to write the thing in the most bloody-minded language he could find. Look at his grin, in the picture on the article. He knows. He knows he could have written something quick and easy and common, fired it off, and left it to be used but forgotten in a corner of the internet like some kind of programmer’s paper towel.
Instead, he created art. Intentionally or not, he made a statement that said, “Do what you love and love what you do.” Even though – or perhaps because – that statement was written in the most archaic language possible.
Cheers, Sir. I salute you, and thank you for reminding us to pursue our passions.
(Comments particularly welcome.)